


A Mother's Regrets

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Rex asks Mòrag about her parents.





	A Mother's Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> gratuitous headcanon ahoy!! also Rex and Mòrag's friendship needs more appreciation

“Be back in time for dinner, alright?” Pyra waves from the doorway, Poppi hanging off one arm and Tora clinging to the other. The sounds of Nia arguing with Zeke and Pandoria drift from an open window, and Rex spots Dromarch napping on the patio outside, and an unexplainable warmth washes over his heart. Everyone just fits so well together in that house, like a real family.

He waves back to Pyra. “Yeah, sure! I’ll be quick!” And he sets off on a light jog that slows down to a relaxed walk.

The village is quiet as usual, just the way it’s always been. Rex takes his time as he makes his way to the cemetery. He folds his arms behind his head and realizes Azurda is still back at Corinne’s house, too— no wonder his helmet felt just a bit lighter.

The lack of Azurda’s constant presence almost feels weird, but Rex can’t complain about getting a bit of time to himself for once. Usually, whenever he’d go say a quick hello and give a quick update to his parents when they visit Fonsett, Pyra would be with him. Her presence is never unwelcome, but it’s been a while since he could just sit in the cemetery and let himself float alone in quiet thoughts.

There’s someone already there, however. Rex stops at the top of the steps. “Mòrag?”

She doesn’t seem startled at all; no doubt she’d heard his heavy footsteps trudging up the steps. Mòrag looks over her shoulder without completely turning around. Her collar hides half her face. “Good evening, Rex.”

“Uhh…” He scratches the back of his head, unsure for a moment before walking over to join her. It looks like she’d just been… staring at the gravestones? Or something. “I guess Pyra must’ve said something about my parents being here? Didja want to meet them too, or?”

“Hm. Something like that,” Mòrag says, looking down at the grave. “We don’t have cemeteries like this in Mor Ardain. Our dead are typically cremated and scattered to the Cloud Sea.”

“Oof, no burials at all?”

“We have one of the largest populations in Alrest. There’s only so much space for individual graves— there are tombs, but those are reserved only for those of the royal bloodline. I suppose I was… curious, to see how the Leftherians handle their deceased.”

“Ahh, well,” Rex awkwardly chuckles. That’s morbid. Since when was Mòrag ever this morbid? “Different cultures, and all that!”

“Indeed…” She’s silent for a moment, then kneels before the grave. Rex’s mother’s. Mòrag gently runs her hand over the engraved stone. “There is merit in a burial like this. You’re able to visit them, this way.”

“Ummm, I guess.” Great, now he’s thinking those sorts of thoughts too. He’s so caught in the thoughts that he asks without thinking: “But what about your dad, the previous Emperor? Can’t you visit him in one of those royal tomb things?”

Mòrag sharply looks to him and Rex immediately regrets letting the words slip from his mouth, but her eyes soften before he can stutter out an apology. “I haven’t visited my parents in quite a while, come to think of it…”

“Better late than never!” Rex tries to sound encouraging. “And, I mean, you’ve been super busy with all your Inquisitor work, yeah? Not to mention traveling with us. I’m sure they’d understand!”

She straightens up and dusts her pants off. There’s a strangely faraway look in her eyes that Rex can’t quite read, and he worries he might’ve said the wrong thing again.

“I don’t mean to pry, I mean!” He holds up his hands in the way he does when he’s trying to fend off Nia or Mythra whenever they scold him for something or other. But Mòrag isn’t scolding him, she’s only staring at the graves. “But… you look sad. It’s a bit of a strange look on you, if I gotta be honest.”

Mòrag slowly shakes her head. “It’s nothing for you to concern yourself over, Rex. My apologies. You came here to be with your parents, and here we are talking about my own troubles instead.”

“Not a problem!” Rex puffs out his chest with a small grin. “Chatting things out always helps clear the clouds, I’ve found. Besides, we’re friends, yeah? Friends are meant to help each other.”

 _Friends._ Right. Mòrag never really had friends before, only Brighid and her brother. There had always been a gap between her and the many servants and attendants that flitted around, and other nobles of her status held her in disdain for various reasons. It’s a strange and unfamiliar sensation, knowing she could let down her guard around someone who isn’t Brighid.

“May I ask how old you were when your parents passed away?”

“Sure, I don’t mind. Let’s see… I don’t really remember the exact number, but I was just a wee toddler when I arrived in Fonsett with my mum. Can’t say I remember much about her or the whole thing, though… why d’you wanna know?”

“I was also a toddler when my parents passed away. I remember them well.”

“Huh?” Rex tilts his head, running the math through. “But Emperor Niall looks about my age.”

“Oh, did I never mention? I am not His Majesty’s sister by birth. My mother was the previous Emperor’s elder sister.”

“Ohhh, I see.” He nods, even though he’s not quite sure what to say to that. So he waits for Mòrag to continue speaking with an antsy twitch in his leg.

“My father was the esteemed Lord Eandraig Ladair. And my mother was was Teàrlag. Teàrlag Ardanach.” Mòrag closes her eyes, and falls silent in remembrance.

_She’s five years old, sitting on her mother’s lap in front of a mirror as she brushes her hair. Teàrlag smiles at her daughter in the reflection and touches her small face with cold fingers, eyes pale and weary. There’s an attendant standing by the door, head bowed, and a fire crackles in a small brazier. They’re fortunate. Hardly any Ardainians can afford such fine luxuries._

_Teàrlag hugs her daughter close, and whispers in her ear._

_“I could have been Empress. Did you know that, Mòrag?”_

_Mòrag doesn’t quite understand, so she says nothing._

_“If my brother had not been born, I would be Empress at this very moment.”_

_Still, Mòrag says nothing, looking up to her mother with wide eyes._

_“Oh, my great and wonderful daughter, you won’t be like me,” Teàrlag murmurs. “Mòr. Something grand will become of you, I’m sure of it.”_

_The fire loudly snaps. Mòrag flinches and clings to her mother in fear._

_“Someday, you will look back upon your poor mother with pity.” Teàrlag strokes Mòrag’s back to comfort her. “I lived my life with nothing but regret and resentments. Never be like me, Mòrag. Promise.”_

_“…?”_

_“I could have been Empress,” Teàrlag whispers, tightly holding her, and Mòrag thinks that her mother may be crying._

“… You miss them?” Rex tentatively asks, breaking through Mòrag’s thoughts. She clears her throat and adjusts her collar, even though it doesn’t really need to be adjusted.

“Of course. They loved me, and I loved them,” Mòrag nods. “They had high expectations for me, even at such a young age.”

“Well, I really dunno your parents, but they’d be downright mad if they saw you now and weren’t proud!”

“Hah…” Mòrag chuckles. “Thank you, Rex.”

“Oh!” Rex’s eyebrows go up, and he quickly drops to kneel before the graves. “I almost forgot to introduce you! Ah— Mum, Dad, this’s Mòrag! She’s one of my friends. And you won’t believe it— she’s the _strongest Driver_ in the entire Ardainian Empire. Crazy, yeah? To be honest, I’m way beyond relieved that we’re friends now, cuz I dunno if I could ever beat her even with Pyra and Mythra… anyway! Maybe you guys heard all the stuff she’s been saying too, so, er.”

“Rex, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He sheepishly laughs and puts a fist to his chest, nodding to the graves before standing up and turning to Mòrag. “I kinda get the feeling there’s more you wanna say about your parents, but I dunno if I’m the right person to tell all that, honestly. So if you ever feel like it, you can talk to mine.” He gestures to the graves.

Even now, after all these years, Mòrag can feel the weight of her mother’s regrets trailing after her like they’d been chained to her ankles. But at the same time it was only that which kept her from following her mother’s path, driving her to continue fighting and struggling on even after Niall had been born and whispers of doubt began to gather around her.

Just like her mother, Mòrag could have been Empress. But unlike her, she would never resent her brother for being born or forever dwell upon her regrets.

She would never become like Teàrlag. It was a promise. A sharp pang of sadness strikes her heart, and Mòrag tugs at the brim of her hat over her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But next time we go to Mor Ardain, you oughta see your parents, too. That’s what I think,” Rex says. “Otherwise you’re just gonna keep feeling bad about not visiting.”

“Mmh. You’re right.” She actually smiles now, and casts one last glance at the graves. Family. Friends. Concepts that had always seemed to partially allude her until recent times.

“See? Sometimes I can say something cool once in a while!” Rex laughs. “Let’s head back, Mòrag. Corinne and Pyra are cooking up something _great_ tonight!”


End file.
